Song of Songs 5

Great(i) 1 I Am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse: I haue gathered my Myrre with my spyce. I haue eaten hony with my hony combe, I haue dronke my wyne with my mylke. Eate, O ye frendes, dryncke and be mery, O ye beloued. 2 As I am aslepe, and my hert is waking I heare voyce of my beloued, when he knocketh. Open to me, O my sister, my loue, my doue, my derlynge: for my heade is full of dewe, & the lockes of my hearre are full of the nyght droppes. 3 I haue put of my cote, how can I do it on agayne? I haue washed my fete, how shall I fyle them agayne? 4 My loue put in his hand at the hole, and my herte was moued within me. 5 I stode vp to open vnto my beloued, & my handes dropped with Myrre, & the Myrre ranne downe my fyngers vpon the locke. 6 I opened vnto my beloued, but he was departed and gone his waye. Now when he spake, my hert was gone: I sought hym, but I coulde not fynde hym: I cryed vpon him, neuerthelesse, he gaue me no answere. 7 So the watchmen that wente about the cytie, founde me, smote me, & wounded me: Yee, they that kepte the walles, toke awaye my kercheafe fro me. 8 I charge you therfore, O ye daughters of Ierusalem, yf ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell hym, how that I am syck for loue. 9 What maner of man is thy loue aboue other louers? O thou fayrest amonge wemen? Or what can thy loue do, more then other louers, that thou chargest vs so straytely? 10 As for my loue, he is white and redde coloured, a goodlye personne amonge ten thousande: 11 his heade is as the most fyne golde, the lockes of hys hearre are busshed, and black as a crowe. 12 His eyes are as the eyes of doues by the water brokes, as though they were wasshed with mylk, & are sett lyke perles in golde. 13 Hys chekes are lyke a garden bedd, where in the Apotecaries plante all maner of swete thynges: Hys lyppes are lyke roses that droppe swete smelling Myrre. 14 His handes are lyke gold rynges hauinge enclosed the precyous stone of Tharsis. His body is as the pure yuery, decte ouer with Saphires: 15 His legges are as the pylers of Marbell, set vpon sokettes of golde. His face is as Libanus, and as the bewty of the Cedre trees. 16 The wordes of his mouthe are swete, yee, he is altogether louely. Soche one is my loue. O ye daughters of Ierusalem, soch one is my loue.